A Pocket Full of Dreams
by Erithe
Summary: A prequel to A Pocket Full of Stars. Melori Enara is a child at Kinloch Hold, the Ferelden Circle of Magi. Growing up under the eye of Templars and other mages, this story follows her adventures in the tower and out into the world. This story involves several OC's and, being a Circle of Magi story - dark themes. Will update every 2 - 3 days.
1. Chapter 1

_Of all tyrannies, a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good  
of its victims may be the most oppressive. It would be better  
to live under robber barons than under omnipotent moral  
busybodies. The robber baron's cruelty may sometimes sleep,  
his cupidity may at some point be satiated; but those who  
torment us for our own good will torment us without end  
for they do so with the approval of their own conscience._  
~ C.S. Lewis

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Chapter One

The Good of All

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* * *

_Kinloch Hold,  
Dragon 9:26_

The dormitory smelled of incense thrown into the fireplace to freshen the air, and sounded of children sleeping, coughing, and rustling in their bedclothes. Blue globes of iridescent light sat in the corners of the room, meant to alleviate any lingering fears of the dark and to protect the shins of those who might require the privy in the night. Now and then soft footsteps passed through the dormitory, an older, taller figure in a robe who would stop to soothe or scold in quiet tones, keeping all the younger ones in bed and shooing the nightmares away.

The chimes rang in the hall and the children slowly woke, rubbing at their eyes and blinking as heavy booted feet and lantern light entered their room. Men in gleaming armor with scarlet tabards routed them from their beds and sent them out into the hall to lean against the curving interior wall of the tower. Down the corridor, people could be heard arguing while, inside the dorm, chests were opened, wardrobes searched, and beds tossed. One of the senior enchanters stood near the children, shooing them to quiet now and then and clucking as a few of them folded down onto the floor, sleeping with their heads upon their knees.

Templars walked along the line, watching the children for any abnormalities, but most were yawning and half awake at best, tousled heads and blinking eyes at the metal clad men walking through the halls - Kinloch Hold had only a few female Templars and none were on duty that night. Eventually the Warden Commander came down the hall with the First Enchanter on his heels, the two men were frowning - Ser Greagoir with anger and Irving with worry. Neither paid much attention to the line of children, going instead to the Knight Captain who had searched the dormitory.

"Any sign of him?" The Knight Commander demanded.

"No, Ser. We found nothing of value," the Captain answered. "Wherever he's gone, I doubt he's in the Tower."

"Lara, get the children back to their beds," Irving said to the senior enchanter who had been keeping the apprentices in order. He sighed heavily, watching as they filed past - some very small and others grown lanky and loose limbed with puberty. One of the last, a small elven girl with a long braid of bright red-gold hair bumped into him mid-yawn, and stood for a moment, blinking up at him with vivid green eyes. He laid a gentle hand on her head and smiled, though his eyes were troubled. "To bed, Enara. Sleep well, child."

She padded past him in her stocking feet, a shawl pulled round narrow shoulders, her nightgown almost too long for her. One of the Templars was still in the dormitory, lifting children to upper bunks and helping Lara tuck small bodies into beds. The elf, one of two in the entire dormitory, climbed into her own bed and pulled the quilt to her chin, yawning widely and curling into a ball beneath the covers.

* * *

"Melori," a hand on her shoulder, shaking her awake. "Melori! It's time to get up, my dear."

"I'm tired," the elf mumbled, burying her face into her pillow, burnt autumn curls scattering in a tangle over her back where they had come loose from her braid.

"You must get out of bed," the sweet voice urged, fingers pushing her hair out of her face and a pair of warm brown eyes set in mocha shaded skin appeared next to her become visible when the elf opened her eyes. "I know you're tired, but there are classes today, and Sister Eugenie expects you all on time in the Chapel."

The tousled head that lifted from the pillows blinked slowly at the human mage, one eye half-closed yet, and both ears twitching in irritation. "Is there breakfast?" Melori wanted to know.

"Of course! There is always breakfast," Enchanter Orienne laughed, her bright eyes and quick smile flashing with humor as she folded back the covers and made sure the apprentice was up and about. "You have just enough time for a bath, so hurry on now."

Melori vaguely remembered Templars in the night, loud boots and tense voices having wakened her from a sound sleep, but she didn't ask. In her five years in the Tower, she'd learned better than to pester with questions, preferring instead to sit quietly where she could overhear the instructors gossiping, instead. Nodding her head, she drooped from her bed to the bath with several of the other children, using her magic to heat a fresh tub of water with one hand before undressing and climbing into it. She'd just got dressed in her breeches and knee-length tunic when a tow headed boy poked his head around the doorway.

"Melori! There are berries for breakfast!"

"What kind?" She asked, frowning at her hair in the mirror - a messy braid was all she'd been able to manage without help. Ten year-old fingers not up to the task of anything more elaborate.

"Raspberries and strawberries," the boy, David, enthused as he led the way between the bunk beds. Melori paused at her bunk and slipped her feet into her soft soled shoes and followed along behind him. They were dressed alike in short versions of the regular mage's tunics, though theirs were made of sturdier materials for running and playing when they were not in classes.

"Any cream?" She wanted to know as they followed the hall along. "Because they only ever give us berries if there's porridge."

"I don't know, Melori," David answered, rolling his eyes at her.

They made their way past the stationed Templars to the small dining hall just beyond. It was already half full of older apprentices and a few of the instructors - enchanters who were considered skilled enough to teach what they'd learned over their years in the tower. Orienne, a spirit healer and one of the main caretakers of the younger children, was already seated at their table with the very youngest of the apprentices, helping smaller hands to pour milk into their cups and cleaning off messy chins with a soft cloth.

"Ah, good," she said with David and Melori appeared. "Sit down, you two. You've got only a little time before Sister Eugenie rings her bell for the Chant."

* * *

They all knew the part of the Chant regarding magic, of course - it had been drilled into their heads from the first day they'd got to Kinloch Hold and almost every day since. But that was not the only part of the Chant they were expected to know. Sister Eugenie had made it her purpose in life to make certain that every apprentice in the Tower memorized Transfigurations from beginning to end, at least, which Melori didn't mind so much. It was the prettiest and most hopeful of the entire collection. The rest were ... well, not as comforting, but they were Eugenie's favorites.

As the good Sister droned on and on about how the Tevinter Magisters ruined the Golden City, Melori counted the cracks in the stone floor at her feet. The Mages did not have to attend lessons in the chapel every other day the way the children did, and she was looking forward to that. Most mages didn't go through their Harrowing until they were nearer to twenty, and, at ten, it seemed ages and ages away. Sighing, she kicked her feet and listened to Eugenie drone while poking David in the ribs now and then with her elbow. He gave her a sideways glance and glared, then grinned.

After chapel, they attended a lesson in elemental magic in one of the stone rooms on the first floor. Long scarred round the edges with the remnants of previous lessons. Today, they were summoning ice within a circle. Each student would step forward under the watchful eye of their instructor, focus very hard, and summon ice into the center until it formed a jagged spike up from the ground.

"Enara," Enchanter Willen said firmly when she was able to summon no more than a frost across the stone tiles. "I really think you aren't trying hard enough. Think about what it feels like to be cold, how the frost creeps across the ground in winter and climbs the glass in the top of the tower. Remember last year? When we could walk out on the lake?"

She did remember, so she closed her eyes and thought very hard about it, imagining the ice and frost and the cold ...

"Whoa! Ah! Stop! Stop!" Willen took hold of her shoulder and she opened her eyes, the magic ceasing abruptly. In front of her, inside the circle, was a jagged sheet of ice and cold that looked as though it had erupted from the stone floor in a wave.

"Well," said Willen as he summoned a gout of flame to clean up the mess she'd made. "That's not exactly what I wanted, but ... it'll do. I'll have Wynne talk to you about focus and control, I think. Well, when she's done with the current mess ... ah, nevermind that last. Now! I believe we're having soup for lunch. Everyone line up and follow me."

* * *

They played outside the tower, among the arches at its base along the shoreline of the crescent shaped island. There was little greenery there, but it was still nice to be outside with the wind in one's hair and the light rain on one's face. Melori and David chased each other around with sticks, pretending to be heroes from one of the tales they'd read. Wardens of old, riding griffons as they fought an Arch Demon and shouted heroically at one another as they slipped and slid across the muddy, rocky terrain. The Templars stood at the doors to the tower and on the docks below, watching them impassively. The children didn't notice, lost in their games.

"And then ...," Melori gasped, turning to hide behind one of the flying buttresses that arched up to the side of the tower. "The Arch Demon fled before the might of the Grey Wardens who flew up and up! Until there was a great battle in the sky!"

"Melori," David said, breaking off in the game. "Your hair is lighting up again. I think it's going to storm."

"Oh ...," She dropped the stick and looked at her hands, watching as lines of energy spidered across her skin and fled up her arms, snapping and cracking almost painfully. "You go first," she told him, remembering the last time this had happened. The lightning from the storm had targeted here as though she were the tower. He ran off and she followed more slowly behind, noticing that the Templars were eying her and shivering a little. She couldn't help it any more than she could make her hair lie straight or her freckles go away.

"Enara," said one of the door guards when she approached, reaching to push the door open for her. They'd seen what happened when she touched metal like this in the past. "Go inside and stand still."

"Yes, Ser," the elf said miserably. "I will."

It wasn't abnormal for the apprentices to have outbursts of magic - one of them had accidentally set fire to her bed a few months ago, but it was always humiliating and sometimes painful when the Templars decided to step in, rather than letting one of the instructors handle it. Fortunately, Orienne was waiting inside when she crossed the threshold, David red-faced and panting at her side. He'd run the whole way, she realized with gratitude.

"Ahh, the storm called your name, did it?" Orienne smiled, kneeling down in front of Melori, who was still only about as tall as some of the youngest human apprentices. Even Surana, who was two years older, had been a little taller at this age. The spirit healer reached out with gentle hands and a sweet smile, "Think about a calm day on the lake, Melori. Sunshine and warm breezes on your face ... yes, just like that. Very good."

"You won't be needing me then?" The Templar standing a few feet behind Orienne smiled, arms folded across his chest.

"Thank you, no, Ser Myrden," Orienne replied, taking Melori's hand in hers as she stood. "It's better for us all if we do it this way, so she can learn how to control it in the future."

"She's like a lightning rod," he said, still smiling, though the look he gave Melori was a considering one.

* * *

"The two of you are covered in mud," Orienne observed as they walked down the hall. She was eying their muddy clothing with a lifted brow. "To the baths, then. And make sure you put everything in the baskets or I'll be having words with the both of you."

"Will you help me braid my hair?" Melori asked, feeling less miserable with Orienne's hand tight around her own. The enchanter had been there since the day, five years before, that the elf had arrived at Kinloch Hold. Whenever nightmares came or the magic went wrong, whenever hair needed braiding or scraped knees needed mending, Orienne was there to soothe the hurt and the fear.

"I will, if you wash it well and get all the mud out," the mage answered, eying the long mess with a raised brow. "Use the soap I gave you last month. It will help smooth it out a bit more, all right?"

"All ri-"

"Enchanter Orienne," a deep voice said as they rounded a corner, three templars and Knight Commander Greagoir standing across the hall. "You will come with us."

The soft brown hand holding Melori's squeezed tight for a moment, trembling a little, and the girl looked up to see Orienne's face had gone very still, the flush draining out of her cheeks. "What is this about?" she asked, very calmly.

"You know very well what's going on, Orienne," Greagoir answered. "Please do not make us force the issue."

The hand let go of Melori's and the mage looked down at the two children. "Go along then, both of you. Ask ... ask Wynne to braid your hair tonight, Enara. I ... I will likely be late."

David grabbed Melori's hand and they stepped back as the Templars surrounded Orienne. They watched as the group moved down the hall, and Melori said, very quietly, "They're angry with her."

"Is she in trouble?" David wondered. They shared a look, the same tightness twisting both their bellies. One did not spend five years in the Circle Tower without becoming acquainted with that particular sick feeling when something went wrong. They'd developed something of a nose for it. "Come one," he said, pulling Melori down the hall. "We need a bath, like she said."

"But ..." Melori stared after the departing figures. "Orienne."

He didn't say anything, just tugged her down the hall and, after a moment, she followed without protest.

* * *

As tired as she was, Melori did not sleep that night. Lying awake in her bunk, she stared at the slats above her, and thought about how Orienne had not come to tuck them in that night. There'd been no lullaby, no kiss on the forehead, no gentle hand on the brow. How could she sleep without them? Wynne had done her best, braiding Melori's hair into a tight, practical braid and giving her a swift, impersonal hug, but it hadn't been the same. Eventually she did drift to sleep, restless and dreaming of storms and disasters.

"Why?" A voice wailed in the middle of the night as it passed the dormitory doorway. "Why would you do that to her, of all people? She did nothing wrong! You fools!" It was followed by the sound of weeping followed, mixed with curses .

Melori left her bed and slipped across the floor, glancing through the blue-lit shadows into the hall. There were five or six templars dragging a blonde-haired man between them. He was bent and shuddering with weeping, his hands manacled behind him. Melori swallowed as they passed, recognizing the mage they dragged along - Anders, one of the spirit healers who had healed the leg she'd broken while playing outside. As gentle as Orienne, but with a sadness in his eyes that always made it feel like one should give him a hug.

"Melori? What are you doing?" Lara, the mage who kept the night watch, asked and Melori jumped, putting her hand over her mouth to keep from crying out. They stared at one another for a long moment, and the human shook her head, reaching out to tousle the elf's red curls. "I see. Come along with you, then. Back to bed."


	2. Chapter 2

_Sorry, he said penitently. It's a book.  
I have no common sense around them._  
~ Patricia A. McKillip

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Chapter Two  
A Step into Nothing

_Kinloch Hold,  
Dragon 9:29_

* * *

_Ambient light leaked from beneath a large, heavy door crisscrossed with metal to give it strength. She recognized it from the hall on the first floor, but had never passed through it. On tiptoe she crept past a sleeping Templar, down the short flight of steps, placed her palms against the wood. There were muffled voices beyond it, stern voices and one softer, weeping one. Melori paused, her forehead pressing into the hard surface - why had she wanted to see inside this particular door? _

_Her hands pressed lightly against the wood and she felt the latch click as it released. The door swung inward into the blue-lit space beyond. Soft-soled shoes slipper quiet, Melori made her way inside, twitching back as the voices grew louder. They were a room away, she thought. The voices lifted and she recognized the Knight Commander, Greagoir's voice echoing a little as he pronounced in a gruff voice, "She knew her fate when she helped him escape."_

_"But ...," the person weeping was male, accompanied by the rattling of chains. Melori stepped toward the next room, pressed along the stone wall and moved forward till she could see. _

_Orienne stood in the center of an improbably tall, circular room, head bowed and shoulders slumped. She looked tired, her long black braid dangling down her back, her brown skin a little gray with fear and exhaustion. The Templars stood around the perimeter of the room, four or five of them, while Greagoir walked around the mage at the center, his eyes on a kneeling figure who was weeping with his hands outstretched. _

_"Anders," Melori thought, recognizing the blonde hair. She'd known it would be him, it was always him._

_The Templars ignored Ander's pleas, of course. She saw them moving in toward Orienne, saw the beloved face lift, heard her cry out ... "NO! No! Please don't hurt me! I ..." and then a scream, horrible and frightening that cut off abruptly. The Templars parted and the woman standing in their center was not the one who had been there a moment before. Blank eyes stared forward beneath the Chantry sun tattooed on her forehead while behind her, Anders wept._

Melori sat up in bed with a start, breathing hard, her eyes wide. Glancing around at the others in the dormitory, she was relieved to see that she hadn't wakened anyone - this time. Grimacing, she lifted the covers and grabbed her dressing robe, throwing it round her shoulders. David rolled over in his sleep, blonde hair tousled, his face flushed in dreams of ... well, Melori wasn't sure she wanted to know, given his current obsessions with food and female anatomy.

Her dreams were often this way now, full of imagined terrors and familiar losses. While she was certain that what she'd dreamt was not what had actually happened, the idea of becoming tranquil was enough to give anyone nightmares. Seeing Orienne that way, even after three years, haunted Melori's sleep. Now that she and the others her age were being assigned to mentors around the Tower, Melori could not stop the nervous tension from following her into sleep. Sighing, she left her bed for the bathroom to freshen up and dress for the day.

* * *

Most days began after sunrise. The dormitory would empty as the children and older apprentices went to breakfast then to chapel to learn the Chant of Light. Sister Eustacia was the chantry mother to the tower and she claimed to love children – even those abandoned by the Maker such as elves or mages. Melori had never quite believed the sister, particularly when she conspicuously left the elves out of chantry related activities.

Not that the elves she knew minded. Elin, the eldest and very near his Harrowing, had come to the Circle at the age of fourteen. Captured by the Templars and taken from his clan, he'd been First to his Keeper and remembered all the tales she'd taught him before he'd been captured. He took great pleasure in teaching the others their heritage and speaking to them in elvish whenever possible. Osryn was a year older than Melori, the youngest at thirteen, and they both loved the lessons Elin taught. Surana, on the other hand, was a little distant most days, spending more time among her books with her friend Jowan than with Melori's little group.

A few hours after waking from her nightmare, Melori was sitting with Elin in the library studying her mathematics while he practiced his Fade magic, lines of glowing green flaring and fading around them from time to time. Elin bore the _vallaslin_ of Dirthamen, and he loved knowledge and discovering secrets. In some ways, he greatly enjoyed his time in the Circle, learning new magic and studying history and ancient texts. Still, he always seemed to consider his stay at Kinloch Hold temporary.

"When I return to the Clan," he told her sometimes. "I will ask if you can come live with us, Melori. It is much better there than it is here. There are no Templars or Chantry sisters to tell you who are you aren't."

This day, he'd let her braid his long, silvery blonde hair, a look which suited him with his gold skin and fair blue eyes. He was tall and lean, with a silvery _vallaslin_ that highlighted his cheekbones. Melori found him beautiful, though she'd never have said so to his face for fear of her own embarrassment. Elin had a grace she admired and a sweet temperament, never critical or impatient. He treated Osryn and Melori as though they were younger siblings.

They spoke to one another in Elvish while they studied, laughing over little jokes or telling stories about their old lives – though Melori's memories were dimmer than his. It frightened her how her parent's faces were indistinct in her memories; she wasn't certain she would know them again if she saw them. All she had left of her family was a little carved wolf her father had made and given to her the day they'd given her to the Templars.

"Distracted are you?" Elin asked, smiling at her over the flow of green magic he pushed from palm to palm. "You keep drifting off into daydreams, Melori."

"I can't help it," she said, waving her hands at her books. "I'm no good at this and I didn't get enough sleep. David is suppose to tutor me later, so I wanted to at least have an idea of the concept ... but mathematics is not my field of study."

"You'll master it soon enough," Elin promised, reaching out to tug on one of her red curls. "Do not forget that you are to meet with Master Tyrol later today."

"I won't," She ducked her head, frowning. "Do ... do you think he'll like me enough to take me on?"

"Of course! why would he not?"

"Well ... I'm an elf, and you had troubles yourself, didn't you?" She pointed out. "If he doesn't take me, they may decide I'm not gifted enough or not ... strong enough to have a Harrowing."

"But you are," Elin said, sighing. "It would be easier if you would show them what you're capable of doing instead of hiding behind this fear of yours. They expect you to do magic here and to be good at it!"

"But ... that draws attention," she mumbled, looking down at the book. "I'd rather not ... stand out. If you haven't noticed already, that's when things become problematic. Surana does fantastic things and now First Enchanter Irving is 'paying close attention to her'."

"He is?" The other elf's hands lifted and a plume of green drifted upward over their heads, showering down onto them in a warm draft. "Where did you hear that?"

Her eyes shifted sideways and she said, almost inaudibly, "I was sitting in the hall outside the requisition when I heard Senior Enchanter Wynne talking about it with Irving as they waited for one of the others."

"I see. You're like a cat, you are. No one notices when you're listening," he chuckled. "Well, in this case, you need to do your best. Tyrol, from what I hear, is the finest archivist in Thedas. If you learn from him, you'll soon be able to hide away in the library, far from prying eyes."

"That's a lovely thought," she sighed.

* * *

The second floor of Kinloch Hold held more libraries, and it was here that Tyrol kept his rooms and office. Melori made her way through the quiet stacks feeling as though she were the worst sort of interloper. At any moment, someone would notice the elf child among all the mages and order her back downstairs, but no one did. The scholars she passed were all either deep in conversation, studying, or ... she looked abruptly away, her ears pinkening as she wished they'd not chosen the library, of all places, to ... get to know one another.

When she came to Tyrol's office, she knocked at his door and stood back and waited, hands folded in front of her and her chin lifted - had she looked at the ground, Elin would have risen out of the stone beneath her and walloped her on the back of the head. "A Dalish bows their head to no one," he'd insisted until both she and Osryn, who was city born, had learned to keep their heads up at all times.

"Come in," a deep voice came from behind the door. Melori took a breath and turned the handle and stepped inside, turning to shut the door behind her before peering into the office. It was a long, narrow space with portraits hanging on the walls between bookshelves, and a wardrobe to one side of a large desk. Everything was neat as a pin, including the man who stood waiting for her, his hands folded behind his back. Melori edged further inside, looking at him with curiosity.

A tall man with rich brown skin and gray streaked black hair swept elegantly across his brow, Senior Enchanter Tyrol was originally from Tevinter, according to the gossip she'd heard, and everyone in the Tower who thought of such things wanted a night with him – though Melori thought he seemed too old for such affairs, even if he was quite fit and very handsome. He dressed in mage robes while in the Tower, but she'd seen him other clothing here and there – fancy tunics and fine fitted trousers. Rather than a tunic, on this day he was wearing a sleeveless tunic, black, over a white shirt with full sleeves, and a pair of gray breeches and black boots.

Melori stopped about midway through the room and tried to remember her manners, back straight, hands folded properly in front of her, chin lifted, and a neutral expression on her face. Her heart was pounding in her chest with worry, however, and she feared her ears were likely at odd angles – they did that when she was nervous.

"There you are, Enara," he said, keen gray eyes sweeping over her as he nodded. "I'm pleased to see you are prompt when called. Do you know why you're here?"

"Yes, Messere," she answered. "You are going to decide whether I should be one of your students."

"Precisely right," He motioned to a chair on the opposite side of his desk and Melori moved toward it, perching on the edge. "Now, you've been recommended to serve as one of my apprentices because of your gifts in art and history. Sadly, you seem to lack the focus necessary for advanced magics, and have made little progress with even the primal arts, despite a certain affinity for them."

Melori nodded, her jaw tightening. "I find it difficult to do what they ask us to do," she explained, widening her eyes a little, her hands twisting together. Elin told her this made her seem younger, less experienced, and it worked on most of the other enchanters.

Tyrol gave her a long stare - long enough that the elf began to squirm a bit under his gaze - before saying, very softly and firmly, "If you are to work under me, you will find a way to manage yourself appropriately. I expect you to become competent in everything I lay before you. Do you understand, Enara?"

"I do understand, Senior Enchanter," she answered. "I already love books and history, and I can draw, too! I do well in alchemy and I can make several different kinds of potions. If you take me on as a student, I promise I will do my very best!"

"As you did for your other instructors?" He asked, his eyes piercing beneath the sweep of jet hair.

"I ...," Melori sighed and looked away, swallowing hard. "I don't like to be noticed. So ... I try not to ... do _too_ well. Everyone notices Surana because she is so good at everything. But ... I just ... I don't ... want the Templars ever to pay attention to me."

"Oh, child," He sighed and leaned back in his chair, causing it creak and tip back beneath his weight. "I understand your fear, but ... hah. I think you have done yourself a great disservice. Look, I will take you on as one of my apprentices under one condition." He lifted a finger, one brow lifting as well.

"What is that?" She asked, trying not to look too eager.

"You will study with one of the masters who specializes in primal. Not in a class and not officially, just ... study with them. Learn to control whatever it is you have so you don't burn down my library accidentally. Is that acceptible?"

Her eyes grew very wide and Melori nodded, her braid dancing down her back. "Yes, it is! Thank you!"

.

* * *

NOTE: Sorry for the delay on this. I have an epic and catastrophic computer event - my motherboard died. So now I'm waiting for replacement parts and using a different machine in the meantime. I'm VERY sorry for the delay.

NOTE II: Thank you for reading :D There will be more!


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